


blood (like fingers)

by BananaWombat (orphan_account)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A Look Inside The Mind, Ep: Spacewalker, Kind Of Trippy, What Clarke was thinking and feeling during that moment in Spacewalker, s2e8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:36:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BananaWombat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can feel it, slimy and hot, trying to crawl its way up her sleeve.<br/>It's done.<br/>It's done.<br/>She's done it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood (like fingers)

She's pulled away.

Their faces are no longer together, and she feels the cool metal slide down her wrist and she catches it, gently, the serrated edge nipping at her palm.

Now.

Now.

Has to be now.

_Have to do it._

_Have to do it now._

_Can't do it._

_Can't do it._

_Can't do it._

_Now._

_Has to be now._

_Nownownownownownow_

_Nowornever_

It's like every sound is amplified by a thousand. It's like she can hear the squelch and the tear as the knife cuts into his abdomen. She can feel his chest jerk slightly, catching a breath, realizing what she's doing.

She twists it. Just to make sure.

_Watery and hot, seeping down over her hand and into the crevasses in her skin._

"Thanks, Princess," he whispers, and his head falls against her shoulder.

_Not watery. Slimy._

_She can feel it, slimy and hot, trying to crawl its way up her sleeve.  
_

_It's not slimy. It's - it's tacky. And warm. It's disgustingly warm, as if it's embracing her._

 

 

 

 

 

It's done.

It's done.

She's done it.

He's not breathing anymore. Her hair doesn't stir under the nonexistent breeze from his lips.

_Blood, like fingers, in tendrils on her sleeve._

It would have been pretty if it wasn't so red.

 


End file.
